Let this shit ride, ayy Let this shit ride, ayy You know I ain't gon' let this shit slide, let's go, let's go (Ayy, roll another Wood, Tav) Ayy, I'm in this bitch with your ho, let's go (Ayy)
I'm havin' bread like Popeye's 'bout my spinach Ayy, smell like the gas in Lenox Ayy, already knowin' I'm musty, fuck lil' ho, just mind your business I'm havin' drip So much drip shit like I just got done swimmin' Ayy, my folks sellin' that boy and girl, what's that? Bobby and Whitney Ayy, spin on the opps in the Hemi Ayy, nigga want smoke, got chimneys Ayy, my lil' nigga Dennis a menace I think I'm a Indian, plays in Pinson Havin' so many clips, I could shoot me a movie Smokin' exotic, my Woods be boujee Young thug ridin' with gunners and Uzis Opps think I'm Trello spin they block in a dually Police or ambulance, opp don't know who to call Swung the stick good, made the ref call a shooting foul I spit crack, dope, the lines out My bitch bad, I might put her in timeout Ran off on the plug like Plies Damn, he gon' be mad when he find out I put a potato on top of the Glock So when I shoot, they don't find out These niggas 12 Brady, I'm Randy Moss throw a pack and I'm wide out I'm throwin' nine bullets in the wind Bitch, what's that? That's a Drew breeze I'm tryna wipe a nigga nose quick Glock like tissue *achoo* like "who sneeze?" I'm 'bout my paper like loose leaf Hope you got insurance, I'ma crash, sue me Smoke a whole G, no reggie, this kush Know a nigga name Reggie'll lay in your bush Victoria's Secret, these niggas be tellin' Inhalin' this gas, hope I get to heaven Shootin' craps at 7-Eleven Ayy, I'm havin' drip like a reverend These niggas rats, they peasants Play with the gang, get wrapped like a present Pull up a photo and shoot like a camera Glock in the left hand, Julius Randle Black and white diamonds, I feel like a panda You a 8, I can't fuck you, I'm sorry, got standards Can't trust these bitches, they changin' like channels On the beach smokin' cookies in Louis V sandals Open the seal, make the whole damn beach smell I see a opp, he get sea shells
Boom, boom! On god He got that bitch from the beach Ayy, saved by the bell like Screech I had to trap the lean, get the mansion out the street Ayy, you know I'm real street Ayy, you know I'm real street AyyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
